


Lift Your Head and Look Around (You Will Be Found)

by trashmouthtrash



Series: You Will Be Found, Jughead Jones. [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, FP and Fred Team Up, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Jughead Gets Hurt a Lot, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Jughead Jones-centric, Penny Peabody is a Grade A Bad Person Who Needs to Leave Jughead Alone, The Author Has a Blatant Lack of Medical Knowledge, and Betty is There for the Aftermath, and of how to use tags, bughead - Freeform, okay i'll shut up now, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 06:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13475814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouthtrash/pseuds/trashmouthtrash
Summary: In response to the following prompt:"I was hoping for a fic where Penny Peabody comes back to exact revenge on Jughead...and violently. Maybe her and some goons take him and rough him up(maybe even stab him or something) and leave him for dead and Archie or Fp has to find him and when they do he is in bad shape."Featuring Fred and FP the Detective Duo, Jughead Hurt/Comfort, and Betty being amazing as always.





	Lift Your Head and Look Around (You Will Be Found)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, barely edited, I own nothing but the plot. TW for blood, violence, injuries, hospitals, all that

XXX

“You and your father have a knack for making promises you can’t keep,” she said, taking his chin in her firm grip and forcing him to look at her. “It’s time you learn some consequences.”

Jughead’s fiery gaze conveyed no fear; he was good at hiding his feelings.

So was Penny Peabody.

Jughead twisted his head sharply to the side to escape her grasp. “I thought I made it clear what would happen if you came back to Riverdale.” The thug holding him shifted, and suddenly there was an arm around his neck and itwasgettinghardtobreathe.

“Oh, Mr. Jones,” Penny laughed. “You really don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you? Besides,” she continued. With each word, the grip around his throat grew tighter. “You’re not exactly in a position of power at the moment, are you?”

The arm disappeared, instead holding his arms behind him, and Jughead sagged, coughing. He recovered quickly, ignoring the way his voice rasped as he said, “I don’t owe you anything, Penny. We’re even. Leave me alone.”

Penny laughed again; Jughead was beginning to fear for her sanity. She held up her arm - which, Jughead finally noticed, bore a noticeable scar. “You call this even?”

Jughead tensed as Penny sauntered toward him. He didn’t want to seem weak, but Penny’s voice had taken on a manic tone, and her menacing glare wasn’t giving him the warm fuzzies. She yanked on his hair, getting all up in his face with visible - and audible - rage.

“Hey, come on, listen, we-”

“No, you listen, Jughead Jones. You thought you were clever, you thought you could get away with crossing me. No one crosses Penny Peabody, Jones, not without consequences.”

Jughead snarked before he could stop himself. “You should go into performing. That monologue is classic Disney villain.” His sarcastic tone did nothing to help his already precarious position. One of the thugs punched him in the gut, and Jughead cursed himself silently.

“I’d watch your mouth if I were you. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

“What makes you think I’ll do anything you say?”

“Betty Cooper doesn’t live too far from here, does she? Archie Andrews is right next to her. And we both know I can get to your father.” Jughead’s eyes widened. “It’s you or them. Your choice.”

That was the moment Jughead knew he was in some deep, unavoidable shit.

XXX

“FP!”

“What, Tall Boy?”

“Some Serpents heard Penny Peabody was back in town. Thought you should know.”

“Shit. Has anybody seen Jughead?”

XXX

Penny stood back as her thugs attacked Jughead. Kicking, punching, even some spitting. The first blow had stolen the breath from Jughead’s lungs; the fifth resulted in an audible crack and a sharp pain in his ribs. Jughead sucked in a breath, unwanted tears making his already blurry vision even worse. “Stop.”

“Beg.”

“What?”

Penny stepped forward, leaning so her face was inches from Jughead’s own. “Did I stutter?”

Jughead opened his mouth, then closed it resolutely. Penny sighed and stepped back; the men returned to attacking him.

He lasted through another two cracked ribs and a bloody nose. It was the dislocated shoulder that got him. Jughead groaned, his voice wavering and resigned.

“Stop. Please, I’m- I’m begging you.”

Penny grinned.

XXX

Fred Andrews was nothing if not shocked when FP Jones came knocking at his door. He tried to hide his surprise at the other man’s disheveled state and the panicked look in his eyes.

“FP? Are you- is everything okay?”

“Is Jug here?”

“No, is-”

“Shit.” FP ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Do you know where he is?”

Fred’s confusion mounted. “No, what’s going on?”

“Penny Peabody’s back in town and nobody’s seen Jughead.”

“Penny Peabody? The drug dealer who blackmailed-”

“Yeah. They’ve got bad blood and I don’t doubt for a second that Penny would want to take out anyone who might be a threat. Anyone who has the ability to expose her.”

“Shit.”

Fred grabbed his coat and the two men were sprinting to the car.

XXX

Penny gestured to the men. They grabbed Jughead by the arms and Jughead blacked out for a second. White hot pain was burning his left shoulder; he moaned and jerked away before he realized what he was doing.

The grip on his arm tightened and Jughead whined, half-unconscious and only aware of the pulsing pain in his limbs.

Suddenly he was on the ground, and his legs and arms were being held down and someone with blonde hair was leaning over him and his shirt was being pulled up and there was a knife and - 

No sooner had Jughead screamed than was there a meaty palm stifling his agonized cries.

Jughead twisted desperately, ignoring the burning in his ribs, only knowing that it hurt it hurt it hurt and he needed to get out of there now.

“Stay still. You’re messing it up.”

Messing it up?

Jughead looked down with tear-filled eyes and was greeted with the sight of crimson blood, rivers of it painting his stomach, and more coming as Penny carved something into his stomach.

“There, done. That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

Jughead didn’t answer. He was breathing too fast, focusing on keeping his insides where they belonged as he was assaulted by nausea and dizziness.

The hands left him, the figures retreated, but the pain stayed. He thought he heard one of them say something about how he better not forget. Forget what? Forget…

XXX

FP and Fred had been driving around for nearly an hour. Fred had let Archie know what was going on; Archie had subsequently contacted everyone he knew, but Jughead’s whereabouts were still unknown. Fred had no doubt Archie and Betty were out there searching on their own. 

FP was losing his calm temperament quickly, and Fred couldn’t blame him - he was panicking himself, and Jughead -technically- wasn’t even his kid.

“I just don’t know what to do, we’ve looked everywhere.” FP was saying, when Fred saw something move in an alley. 

He slowed the car, interrupting FP with a “Did you see that?” 

FP shook his head, daring to look hopeful. “You don’t think…?”

“Only one way to find out.”

XXX

Jughead was awake.

Well, relatively awake.

Kind of.

Everything hurt, he wanted to go home, and it was getting dark and he was cold and everything hurt.

Everything hurt /really freaking bad/ and Jughead was just so damn tired.

He had to get out of there. Get up, get out, get home. Yeah, that sounded good.

Key word being, “sounded.” Getting up proved to be far too difficult for his taste. Relying heavily on the wall, Jughead inched himself into a sitting position. Good, that was good. Everything was spinning and everything hurt but sitting was good. Sitting was closer to getting home.

Jughead clutched the wall and rose on shaky legs. He was nearly there, practically standing, when the spinning got too fast and his stomach revolted.

As it turns out, vomiting and standing don’t go very well together. Jughead wasn’t all too surprised to find himself on the ground again, this time with an arm in his own puke.

That said, passing out soon after wasn’t very shocking, either.

He didn’t see the two men running toward him, or hear them calling his name.

XXX

“Jughead!” FP watched Jughead fall to the ground and suddenly he was sprinting. He knelt beside his son and took in the sight of him - Jughead was too pale, too still, too covered in blood. FP froze, eyes locked on his son’s prone form..

Fred, impossibly, retained some semblance of calm and checked for Jughead’s pulse. It was weak, but he needn’t mention that to the already petrified father kneeling beside him. FP looked up at him, wide-eyed, and all Fred could think was that in all his years he’d never seen FP look so utterly terrified.

Fred knew he should be applying pressure, should be doing something to slow the endless bleeding, but he couldn’t even tell where it was coming from, it was /everywhere/. He dug in his pockets for his phone, eyes locked on Jughead. Just as the 911 operator answered his call, Jughead’s eyes fluttered.

XXX

Burning. Aching. Heavy. The pain had its monstrous jaws latched around him, eating away at him, dragging him down into the depths of unconsciousness.

But - someone was calling his name, there were hands on him, touching and prodding and, shit, they were pushing on his stomach and he screamed, and /it hurt really bad/. 

Twisting, he was twisting away, and it made the burn worse, but he didn’t care because the hands were hurting him and he had to get away.

Get up. Get out. Get home.

XXX

“Fred.”

Fred held up a hand to tell FP to wait - focusing on talking to the emergency operator was difficult enough without FP talking in his ear. But the other man was persistent, swatting at his arm to get his attention.

“What?” His heated expression fell as he finally looked at what FP was gesturing at. He’d found where most of the blood was coming from - Jughead’s stomach was covered in cuts, in what looked like…

“Are those words?” FP tore the flannel from his back, pushing it up against the wounds, and Fred had to sit down for a minute to settle his nausea because /this could not really be happening/.

 

Fred finished the call with clipped sentences and a queasy stomach. Jughead was squirming, not even fully conscious and trying to get away from the pressure on his stomach. FP tried to soothe him, muttering softly and gently urging him to lie still. He put a hand on Jughead’s shoulder to stop his struggling, and everything went to shit.

Jughead’s eyes flew open and he screamed, arching his back in a desperate escape attempt. FP cursed and froze, wanting to help but not wanting to make it worse. Jughead’s eyes were open; he was staring at his father, but FP had an odd feeling his son wasn’t looking at him so much as through him.

 

“Ambulance’ll be here soon.” Fred muttered. Jughead went limp in FP’s arms, and Fred nearly had a heart attack before realizing that the teen’s eyes were still open, albeit very slightly. The shallowness of Jughead’s breaths did nothing to ease the queasiness in Fred’s stomach. He carded through the boy’s raven locks absentmindedly.

//Please, whoever’s listening, let the ambulance make it in time. He doesn’t deserve this.//

//Fuck, he doesn’t deserve this.//

XXX Hospital Room of Forsythe Pendleton Jones III - Two Days Later XXX

Fred pushed open the door to Jughead’s hospital room. He sighed; FP was slumped in a hospital chair - the same position he’d been in when Fred had left the night before. It’d taken him long enough to convince Archie to go home and rest. He’d hardly tried with FP, knowing it was a lost cause.

“You should run home, shower, I’ll sit with him.” Fred’s concerned gaze was met with a weary one, a beyond worried one, a my-son-was-just-brutally-attacked-and-he-might-not-wake-up one.

“No.”

XXX

There was beeping. The stench of antiseptic. Soft voices.

He felt heavy. His thoughts were coming slowly, too slowly, because what if he was still out there and the bad people were coming to get him?

The beeping got a bit faster.

No, he couldn’t still be in the alley. The alley was cold and hard; there was no beeping. He was laying on something soft - a bed. A hospital bed.

For someone with few other defenses, the sluggishness of his thoughts was alarming.

He tried opening his eyes, but they were too heavy, and he was still tired. He managed a little twitch of his finger before giving up. He’d nearly drifted off again when he heard his name.

“Jughead, wake up bud. We’re right here.”

Then there was a warm hand holding his and he tried again, this time managing to open his eyes, but the lights were bright and he closed them quickly. Then someone turned out the lights and he tried again. His vision was unfocused; it was unnerving.

There were two blurry, large figures looming over him. One of them moved closer and he flinched, scrambling backward before registering the pain that burned whenever he moved. Jughead stopped; if it weren’t for his rigid posture and quick breathing, one would think he’d calmed down. He blinked a few times, breathing deeply, and his vision was more or less cleared. 

Fred and his dad.

The two large figures were Fred and his dad.

XXX

“Jug?” FP’s voice was cautious, unsure. Despite his frenzy, Jughead hadn’t let go of his hand. FP didn’t give a second thought to the fact that his son’s grip was painfully tight - he only squeezed back. “It’s okay, bud.”

Fred was pale. He stood at a safe distance, unwilling to risk scaring the teen again. 

Jughead looked up at Fred with reddening cheeks. “Sorry,” he muttered. Fred smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. You’ve been through hell.”

FP spoke slowly. “You wanna lay back down? Don’t wanna rip your stitches.”

Jughead stared at him, his gaze unfocused, before he blinked and seemed to realize the position he was in - hunched in a ball in the corner of the bed. He nodded. 

Slowly he unfurled himself and FP helped him lay back down. Jughead’s eyelids drooped, and FP smiled ruefully. “Go to sleep, kid. We’ll be here when you get up.

XXX

Fred was sitting in the waiting room when Archie and Betty hastily burst through the doors. 

“Can we see him now?”

Both teens made eye contact with him and Fred stood, nodding. “I can’t promise he’ll be awake, and he was pretty disoriented when he first woke up, so when-”

“Which room is his?”

Archie was pushing past him - without knowing where he was heading - and Betty was on his heels. As touched as he was by their devotion, Fred stopped them.

“Wait, both of you. You can’t go in there yelling and running, you’ll terrify him. Jughead’s been through a lot - he’s hurt bad, and he needs time to rest and get better. Don’t be upset if he’s not his usual self.”

Betty and Archie shared a glance. As the pair rush by him, Fred can tell they hadn’t fully internalized what he’d tried to say, didn’t really think anything - even this - could mess with their favorite brooding emo author.

Fred hoped they were right.

XXX

(They were wrong)

XXX

Betty pushed open the door slowly, heeding Fred’s warning. Jughead was asleep. Fred followed, then Archie.

Except -

Archie let go of the door too quickly. It slammed shut, the bang echoing thunderously.

Jughead shot up and inhaled sharply. His eyes were wide, darting back and forth between his visitors. His heart monitor beeped frantically - Jughead was gasping like a fish, panicked and unable to draw a full breath.

Betty gasped, shellshocked. As if the sight of him wasn’t enough, her boyfriend was having a full-blown panic attack.

Because a door slammed.

Betty was beginning to think this was a lot worse than she thought. Archie was beginning to think the same. Fred was beginning to think perhaps he should call a nurse. And Jughead?

Jughead was beginning to think it would be really fucking nice if he could just breathe.

XXX

After the whole panic attack debacle, things moved… hesitantly. Everyone watched their words around Jughead, did everything slowly and quietly, as if the drop of a pin might set him off.

Jughead was getting pretty freaking sick of it.

To be fair, he /had/ panicked at the slam of a door. But - in his opinion - that didn’t warrant a solid week of tiptoeing around him. 

Yet - when asked if he felt better, he couldn’t answer confidently.

Something was still itching at him, and he knew exactly what it was, but he wasn’t ready to face it.

He still hadn’t looked at his stomach.

At the words Penny Peabody had carved there.

He hadn’t looked, but somehow he knew, just like he knew that if he waited much longer, the words would burn through him like acid, dissolving any semblance of normalcy he was clinging to.

Jughead had to look.

XXX

He did it alone. Betty would be coming by later, and he’d told his dad he’d be fine for an hour so the exhausted man could catch a nap. Jughead slipped quietly into the restroom, glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

He looked exhausted. His face was still bruised, his eyes sunken in and weighted by dark bags. His left arm was in a sling. But none of that was what made him hesitate, what made his hands tremble as he grasped the hem of his hospital gown, mentally preparing himself for what he might see.

Jughead unclasped the hospital gown; all that was left were the bandages. He wasn’t supposed to remove them, he knew, but he figured mentally obsessing over it and losing sleep wasn’t doing much for his health either. You give and you take.

Gingerly, Jughead pulled at the bandages. The adhesive pulled at his skin; he took a deep breath and pulled it off in one go. He glared furiously at the wall to the side, determinedly avoiding the mirror in front of it.

/Just look./

/I don’t want to./

/You can’t be afraid of your stomach./

/Don’t let Penny win./

/Just look./

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Jughead looked in the mirror.

Across his abdomen, in red, angry letters, were the words, “Property of Penny Peabody.”

XXX

Betty walked briskly to Jughead’s hospital room, Pop’s takeout in hand. No coffee for Jug - fast food was pushing it, but she figured he more than deserved it.

Jughead had been through hell, and Betty didn’t know how to fix it.

So she brought him Pop’s, ignored the dirty looks from the nurses, and sat with him. Some days they were silent, some days their laughter elicited complaints from the neighboring patients.

One thing she had noticed, though, was that Jughead hadn’t cried yet.

At least, not in front of her. Perhaps he sobbed silently in the small hours of the morning, while Betty was sleeping in her comfortable bed. Perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable opening up to her about that, not yet ready to show her all his vulnerabilities.

Whatever it was, it was eating away at him. Every day, he sagged a bit more, like a deflating balloon. His eye bags looked a bit more pronounced, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He wasn’t eating well, hardly sleeping. She knew he only kept up a facade to make her feel better, but she was at a loss for how to get him to open up to her.

Today, she would try. Try what, she didn’t know, but she knew she had to try something or Jughead would fall deeper into the downward spiral.

She knocked lightly before entering, as per normal, and set the food on the table without looking up. 

“Hey, Jug, I brought-”

Jughead was not in his bed.

The bathroom door was closed, but light leaked out, as did the muffled sound of someone sniffing.

Betty took a deep breath.

/She didn’t know what to do, this was way out of her arena/  
/But this was Jug, and they would make it work. They always did/

Betty gently knocked on the door, not even pausing before nudging it open. Jughead was standing in front of the mirror, with his hospital gown and bandages removed, looking at -

“Oh, Jug.”

Jughead started, hastily covering the angry marks on his abdomen, and retreated to the corner of the bathroom. He avoided her gaze and pulled his knees to his chest, rocking softly.

/When Betty said she wanted to get past his guards, this wasn’t what she had in mind./

“It’s okay, Jug. You don’t have to hide from me. You know I don’t care about that.”

Jughead shook his head. Betty stepped closer.

“Juggie, I want to help you, but you gotta let me in. Please, Jug. Let me help you.”

A pause.

Jughead turns to look at Betty, eyes reluctant but trusting. Betty smiled softly. She kneeled next to Jughead and sat beside him. They remained in comfortable silence for nearly a minute before Betty decided to bite the bullet.

“Can you show me, Jug?”

Jughead recoiled as if she’d physically struck him, and Betty backtracked. “You don’t have to, it’s okay. But you know I won’t judge you for what it says. What Penny did is her fault; it doesn’t change anything between us. I won’t think any less of you.”

Jughead’s stare conveyed hesitation, unease, but when he met Betty’s eyes, he saw nothing but sureness. Something in her gentle words and strong gaze dampened the panic he’d been drowning in. Swallowing hard, Jughead pulled the bandage away from his stomach.

Betty couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips at the sight. The wounds contrasted starkly with Jughead’s pale skin, and the words “Property of Penny Peabody” made Betty sick to her stomach.

/That sick, psychopathic - /

“Sorry.”

Betty’s head snapped up. She was shaking her head before Jughead could continue.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Jug, nothing at all. This isn’t your fault, it’s all Penny’s. In fact, I’m half tempted to go find her right now and give her a piece of my mind.” Betty took Jughead’s rueful smile as a sign of reassurance, and continued. “I don’t think any less of you, I don’t love you any less. You’re still my Juggie. Penny Peabody isn’t going to change that.”

Jughead bowed his head, still stubbornly avoiding Betty’s eyes.

“Hey, look at me. I love you, okay? We’re going to get through this, together, because I am not losing you. I love you, Jughead Jones.”

And Jughead broke.

He sobbed grossly, leaning into Betty’s waiting embrace, and she welcomed him. She held him while he cried, willing to sit there for hours if that’s what he needed. 

They were Betty and Jughead - they’d find a way. They always did.

XXX

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so first: I'm really sorry I haven't updated my other fics since the prehistoric era but I will, I promise, and I understand if you want to throw a shovel at me.  
> Second: instead of, you know, finishing the fics I've started, I decided to do a one-shot for this prompt from a super sweet commenter from another one of my Jughead fics. I hope you like it!  
> Third: you know the drill, comments and kudos are the absolute best! I love you all, thanks for messing around with me and dealing with my nonsense. Prompts are welcome!


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